


Countdown to Christmas - An Advent Calendar of Drabbles

by firelord65



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Gallows Humor, Limited Injury, Lots of cuteness in here, Not a dark fic so much as the drama comes out of left field, Raider Attacks, Teasing, in-verse, prompt-fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 19,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: A series of inter-related drabbles. Eric and Tris tease and flirt their way through December until Christmas Day.





	1. Dec 1st - Mistletoe Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a TOTALLY CUTE series of prompts designed by [Verobird](http://verobird.tumblr.com). Click the image to see the original post!
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> [](http://verobird.tumblr.com/post/153891387911)  
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> I tried to stick as close to the original prompts as possible but it became hard as soon as I made the decision to make all of the drabbles related. Please enjoy unabashed cuteness and fluffiness with a tempering of Cold Hard Reality that I like to keep in all my fics.

Most traditions in Dauntless revolved around drinking, dancing, or fighting - stress relief from the daily toils of the warrior faction. A few more inter-faction traditions still snuck through, though not many.

I resented one in particular.

Honestly, why there even existed a tradition focused around  _ kissing  _ anyone who happened to be standing with you under a piece of tree branch was beyond me. Abnegation didn’t believe in mistletoe. The whole faction would probably implode if anyone did try to bring it into common practice.

Hell, I was going to implode if Christina tried one more time to get me to participate. 

First Four lingered “causally” in the hall by a bundle of the green stuff. I got away with a kiss on the cheek. Sorry, kissing my ex was not on my to-do list.

Then Richards dangled a piece over Kyle’s desk. That was a joke thankfully so I didn’t even have to negotiate my way out. I did end up with a tiny bit of heart shaped chocolate for my trouble of “still talking to the poor exiled Kyle,” though. 

My lucky streak ran out when I ran into none-other than my trainer and soon-to-be-coworker Eric as we tried to leave the mess hall at the same time. 

“You afraid of a little piece of mistletoe?” Eric loved to taunt me.

“I’m not afraid of anything.” I hated to let him win.

Eric liked to kiss with tongue. I paid him back with a nip on his lower lip and what should have been a suitably terrifying growl. Based on how hungry he looked leaving the cafeteria, I’d say that I won. 


	2. Dec 2nd - Pretend boyfriend/girlfriend for family Christmas party

“Shit, shit, shit. Abort,” I hissed under my breath. Al was wandering around the Pit, a growler of Greg’s homemade ale clutched in one paw.

Christina chuckled and shook her head. “He still beggin’ for attention?” she slurred. The night was far from young and we were all, well, sloshed. I nodded, wincing at how everything blurred on the edges of my vision. No quick motions, got it.

“Gotta go,” I whispered. “Cover for me?” Chris was a good friend; she’d distract Al until he forgot he was looking for me. I ignored his wave in my direction and slipped over to a darker, quieter part of the party.

I spotted Richards and Kyle hanging all over each other while Eric rolled his eyes. Maybe I’d take pity on him while hiding from Albert the Insistent. “Hey-hey,” I said.

Kyle draped himself over me in what could be called a hug for a few seconds. “Triiiiiiiis,” he sang cheerfully. “Baaabe you’ve been avoiding us. We’re not cool enough for Ms. Prior, resident badass?”

God he was drunk and it was _hilarious_. Richards’ face turned as red as his hair, and he dragged his boyfriend away. I waved off his apologies and wished him good luck at getting his boyfriend up to their apartment without trouble. That left me with Eric which was just fine with me.

“What’re you doing in the reject corner?” Eric teased. He offered me a sip of his drink, some spiced dairy drink that I’d yet to decide if I liked.

I shrugged and decided to go full honesty. It was easier than trying to lie good enough - _well enough? Thinking was hard_ \- to fool the ex-Erudite. “Al’s on the prowl,” I grunted. “I’m too drunk to let him down gently so there’s that.”

Eric snorted. “You’re too nice to that dork.”

I cringed when I realized Al was in fact not distracted by Christina. His head was bobbing over the Dauntless members milling around. “Nooooo,” I whined. “Operation Chatty Candor has failed.” Yeah, it was a great name, thank you very much.

“I got an idea,” Eric offered. He put his drink up on the walkway we were lurking by and settled an arm around my shoulders. “Yes?”

I leaned against him and nodded. I underestimated Eric’s plan, though, and his next move made me flush from head to toe.

Eric pulled me in close and started kissing along my collarbone, his lips tracing a path along the curve of my skin. “Oh that’s your plan,” I stammered.

“Too much?” he purred. My brain shut off for a few seconds as his breath fanned against my neck. _Holy shit_. His eyes were half closed as his lips hovered lazily in the air. “Prior?” Eric asked again when I didn’t reply.

“N-no, it’s working. It’s fine,” I squeaked. My voice jumped up an octave as he began nibbling at my pulse point.

“Good. You gonna join in or am I the only one making this phony relationship look legit?”


	3. Dec 3rd - You made me a Christmas playlist but it’s just Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me or if it’s a joke.

 “Uhm, Tris?”

“Yeah?” I looked up from the paperwork I was currently attempting to not fall asleep on. Eric stood there in all his asshole glory, an eyebrow cocked and a smirk dancing across his face.

He leaned against the corner of my desk. “So I got your gift,” he said smoothly.

I beamed. So Eric _did_ check his mailbox! Phenomenal. That was one debate solved and present delivered all in one. “You liked it? I spent forever on that. And the login worked?”

He nodded. “I do know how to find a directory of music files,” Eric teased. “I guess I’m just curious about what you meant? Why you picked… that… for a playlist.”

My brain stalled. What was wrong with the playlist? I’d spent about four hours scrolling through Erudite’s library of recovered songs, finding the Christmas songs that were my absolute favorites. Had I put them all in a weird order and spelled something like “assface?”

I recovered, folding my arms across my chest to mirror him. “I thought it was pretty straightforward,” I insisted.

Eric tipped his head. “I didn’t think you thought of me that way. Legitimately, that is. Tris Prior on rum might, but Tris Prior Faction Over-worker doesn’t give the vibe.”

That was it. He was absolutely confounding. “I’m lost,” I admitted.

He leaned over, practically laying over my paperwork. “Oi! Don’t crumple that shit. I’ll get blamed, jackass.” That didn’t discourage him and he tapped away on my keyboard to navigate to personal server files. He called up the folder “thingy for erc” - I was in a hurry because of how long I’d taken listening to music - and clicked the first file.

Eric looked at me, his pierced eyebrow sky high. “This is straightforward?” he chuckled.

A female singer started up, all slow and emotional.

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I need_

Oh no. I could see the same song title repeated.

_I don’t care about the presents_

_Underneath the Christmas tree_

Over and over and over again.

_I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know_

My head fell into my hands.

_Make my wish come true oh_

_All I want for Christmas is you_

The music picked up just as Eric planted a sloppy wet kiss on my forehead. “I’m touched, Prior. But you didn’t have to say it fourteen times in a row.” He tried to stay serious but he lost it in the end, a snicker escaping.

“That’s not what I meant to give you!” I roared, my face red. A shove against his chest did get him off my desk, along with a third of my papers. He bent to pick them up for me and I waved him away as fast as humanly possible.

“Delete it, delete it, delete it,” I ordered. “And no, you’re not getting a replacement playlist."

“You wound me, Prior.”


	4. Dec 4th - My car got stuck in the snow and you saved me

“This _cannot_ be happening.”

The comm on the dashboard crackled as the person on the other end growled profanities under their breath. I looked over at Richards and we exchanged a look. “He sounds like he’s doing just fine,” the driver remarked casually.

I giggled and tried to focus on the road - or lack thereof - in front of us. “How can you see in this mess?” I asked. It had been snowing for four days now, stopping only long enough for the train tracks to be cleared and the plows to pack more snow against the buildings.

Richards had been working with me on driving training - step eighty of twenty million of the Leadership process - much to my frustration. The different specialty training were on rotation and I’d lucked out to get driving during the wintertime.

That was why we were the ones to get sent out to rescue a certain other Leader who had clearly been trained in the summer.

Richards spouted off advice on manually downshifting on hills and pumping the breaks as we approached the edge of the city. Here the roads turned to snow-packed suggestions. The truck slowed down as Richard carefully avoided making the same mistake that we were sent to correct.

I spotted our counterpart a few yards away, tail up in a ditch. Perched atop the roof was Eric. He looked downright _freezing_ with his arms folded so tightly to his chest that the shoulders of his jacket were straining.

Giving Richards a wink, I slipped out of my seat to roll open the side door. “We’re here to pick up one bad driver?” I called. I looped the hanging strap around my wrist to keep from falling out of the truck as Richards started a very cautious seven-point turn. Eric buried his face in the crook of his arm before jumping down. If not for the comm unit still in his grip, the wind would have taken his words.

“It had to be her.”

“Hey, just think,” I teased. “If it wasn’t me you’d be spending the trip back with Richards. Sorry Rich,” I added over my shoulder.

“I forgot that my presence was equivalent to punishment. Thanks for the reminder,” he said with a snort.

Eric slogged through the snow to meet us. It had only gotten worse and even with his height it came practically to his knees. I extended my free hand down to grab his forearm and haul him into the truck.

He didn’t let go initially, choosing to murmur “thanks” and give me a wink. I hated how that, along with the crystals of snow still sitting atop his hair, made me flush. Eric, naturally, commented on how red my ears were. I blamed it on the cold and pushed him away with two fingers.

Once I was sure we weren’t going to topple out, I threw the door shut. “One slightly damp Coulter, fetched,” I joked. “And now he gets to join us on our lesson.”

Eric tried to take my seat up front, claiming seniority. I countered with the fact that it was _my driving lesson_. Richards told us to shut the hell up and made me take over the wheel. He took the passenger spot, leaving Eric to the back section. 

I managed to limp us back to the main roads without slipping too many times. Eric practically broke my shoulder from trying to steady himself. The fourth time it happened I yelled at him to sit down on one of the back benches.

His response? “I have to see to get the full Richards Driving School Experience.”

He did stop using me as an emergency handhold, switching to armrest instead. It was a start.


	5. Dec 5th - I gave you my heart and asked you to marry me

Blood. I didn’t expect the blood. 

Crimson spatters of white-hot blood melting puddles into the grime-that-was-once-snow.

My shoulder ached from the kickback of a shotgun that I’d plucked from a fallen comrade. Windburn bit my cheeks as the tempest of a building snowstorm tore at my goggles, seeking wet eyes. 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

_ Dripdripdrip _ . Liquid drops as round and as perfect as berries welled up before sliding to the ground from a gash on my leg. 

Staccato gunfire still pierced the air. Comms cracked as regroup orders rang out. The raiders who had breached Sector Fourteen were rallying and Morgan needed backup. If they could get someone back on the wall with a rifle they would have a shot. 

My squad was too far away, I knew that. Still I staggered over to Christina. Her head was a pivot, watching for a resurgence in our sector. “Anything from Eric?” My voice was hoarse, my throat rubbed raw from shouting in fear, exasperation, rage. 

Christina shook her head and flicked her hand twice down. I ducked, wincing as the barrel of my stolen gun jarred against the ground. Christina’s pistol cracked in my ear twice.

She said something that I couldn’t interpret. I tried to turn as quickly as my tired limbs would manage, blood and soot soaked snow catching in my collar. I cocked the shotgun with a firm twist of my wrist, ready to fire on the next figure to approach our carved-out shelter. 

“Stop!” Christina’s voice sounded miles rather than inches away. I flicked my finger off the trigger just as another person entered my field of view. Relief replaced adrenaline.

Eric stood there, a hunting knife clutched in the same hand as his silver-plate pistol. “Happy to see-” he started to boast - only Eric would boast in the middle of a battle - until he was blindsided by the woman Christina had shot.

Both bodies rolled into the snow. Eric recovered quickly and took control of the fight. The woman had two gunshots to her shoulder and hip. She couldn’t handle the slam of the heel of Eric’s palm into the bloody wounds.

Nor could she really handle the curve of his blade jammed up under her ribs into her chest. 

She wasn’t the first person I’d seen die today, nor was she even the first person I saw my squad leader kill. I was numb to everything around me. Christina helped me to my feet and we relished in the temporary solace. Reports continued to stream in of raiders being turned back at every turn. 

Seconds turned to minutes turned to a blur as a deathly quiet took over the abandoned city streets. Every once in awhile someone would talk but for the longest time the three of us sat in silence, waiting for order. I wrapped my leg in a bit of bandaged scavenged from Christina’s pack.

Eric dropped his fist onto my shoulder. I hadn’t noticed his initial taps. “Hm?” 

“Prior, if someone gave you their heart, would you marry them?”

I blinked at him. “Are you asking to marry me? In the middle of an attack?” I sputtered. 

“No, I asked if you’d marry someone if they gave you their  _ heart _ .” His grin twisted and he pointed to where the dead raider woman still lay. “If you want me to propose, I do happen to have a spare one lying around.”

I think it was Christina’s deadpan glare that just made the whole situation. Or it was the residual adrenaline just waiting to kick back in. Either way, I laughed until my goggles fogged up and my sides ached. 


	6. Dec 6th - I got you for Secret Santa, but I thought it was supposed to be a gag gift and now I won’t fess up because I’m embarrassed

“No, no, that’s not how that happened!  _ I _ told  _ him _ that we were through. Swear to God!” Laughter rang out and Kyle’s ears turned redder than his boyfriend’s hair. 

Richards rolled his eyes at the group. “Just smile and nod. Let him tell his tale,” he snorted. “I remember how it really went down, though. There was an incident in the mess involving  _ somebody _ trying to kiss their ex because they forgot they broke up.”

Kyle protested, naturally, and I got up to get another round. “Whenever you’re ready, I think we still have a few more gifts to open,” I joked. We were gathered in the motorpool - we being myself, Kyle and Richards, Christina and Will, some of my fellow Leadership trainees, Eric, and a very rambunctious Millie-the-kitten - trading presents. We’d all drawn names from a hat for who we were giving a gift to. 

Christina had opened my gift to her already. The mittens I’d knit her had little pouches that folded over the tip-less fingers. She’d literally squeaked with joy, particularly at the shade of fuchsia that I’d been able to dye the wool to. Most of us had opened gifts already, going in a non-sense order as we drank and talked. 

When I got back to my seat on the running boards of Richards’ truck there was a long tube perched just so inside the doorway. “This mine?” I asked. The question was silly; twisting the tube revealed my name written in the most atrocious scrawl I’d ever seen.

I held up the handwriting to the group. “Someone needs to go back to Lower Levels. I haven’t seen letters this bad since I tried to read one of Will’s reports,” I teased. 

The ex-Erudite hollered and threw a bit of wrapping paper at my leg. Millie took off like a shot chasing the scrap underneath the truck, tail ramrod straight in the air. “I kid, I kid.”

The top of the tube had a plastic lid that was easily popped off by working at it with my fingernail. I slid the contents of the tube out, keeping the tight roll of glossy paper away from my glass of eggnog. When I unraveled the poster, I started giggling.

“It says ‘All I want for Christmas is you. Join the Army today!’” I announced and turned the page to show the group. The design was practically ripped from a classic recruitment poster way back before the War. A legion of soldiers stood at attention, their uniforms replaced with ridiculous festive outfits. 

Christina raised an eyebrow. “Is that a joke? There’s gotta be something else in there, right?” Derision colored her tone. No one spoke up to claim the gift which suited me just fine. I didn’t give a fuck if she thought the poster was lame. I liked it. It was unique. 

I casually thanked whoever gave me my present and made sure it was safely back in the tube. The conversation had been derailed once again to some story. Lexi had to throw something at Eric to get him to stop talking. It was her turn to open her anonymous gift. 

I twitched my head subtly. Once, twice. Just enough to catch his attention. He got up under the pretense of getting himself a refill and wandered over to my side of the lopsided circle. 

He leaned against the truck and smiled that too-slick smile of his. “Thanks for the gift,” I murmured. “You’re never going to let me live that down, will you?”

“Nope,” Eric chuckled.

“I told you it was a mis-click!”

“Sure it was.”

“Eric!”

“Tris, please. Can I just open my thing?” Lexi whined. 

I flushed and nodded. “Yeah, sorry!”

Eric bent over until just I could hear him. “Troublemaker.”

“Asshole,” I whispered back.


	7. Dec 7th - We’re both stuck at the airport for Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circa six years prior to Tris' choosing.

The sirens were loud. They’d pierced the air just after morning roll-call. It was only supposed to be a half-day for the holiday. Everyone had been loud and rambunctious.

Ms. Gilford had made us hold hands to keep us together when we rushed to the gymnasium. The sirens didn’t stop.

Soldiers in steel-grey helmets and buckled-on gear had come in. They yelled a lot about the roof. We weren’t safe. Weeks later my father would come home every day and argue with my mother about why we needed defenses we couldn’t have.

Caleb and I would sit, listen, and say nothing. We were nine and ten. What did we know about steel-reinforced concrete? But for now we kept our mouths shut and hurried quickly behind Ms. Gilford to the next designated safe house. There were more armored Dauntless there, this time with plastic shields and guns with barrels wider than my fist. 

Shelter, hide, wait.

Keep quiet.

Hold your brother’s hand. Be glad that your family is here with you.

Move buildings - the last rockets landed only a few streets away. You civilians need to get to the airport.

Move move move move move.

Stop, it’s not safe.

Caleb clutched my hand until my fingers went numb. We sat silently. The sirens wailed.

The airport hadn’t been changed much since before the war. The windows were replaced with plywood or sealed with tape and plastic. We were directed away from the old terminals and sent to the empty airplane hangars instead. 

The noise inside outweighed the sirens outside. Other than for the Choosing, I’d never seen so many Amity inside the city walls at one time. People were arguing, yelling, crying for their missing families.

Caleb and I shuffled along behind Ms. Gilford. I watched wide-eyed as the Dauntless fought to keep control. They scurried about like fat, shiny roaches, impervious to the shouts or the wailing or the thundering explosions that rocked the city. 

Our class dissolved as parents came for their kids. Caleb and I were put with a group from Mid-Levels. He let go of my hand finally, and I allowed myself to mingle with our new companions. I didn’t let him out of my sight, but if he didn’t feel the need to be glued to my side then neither did I.

Another child was sitting quietly off against the wall, his hands wringing. Father’s teachings clawed in my belly and I forced myself to sit next to him. “You shouldn’t be scared,” I offered helpfully. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

The words felt hollow and empty but it was my duty to say them. The boy didn’t say anything. His hands continued to twist and twist and twist.

I leaned forward, forcing myself into his sight line. “Talk to me? At least until your parents find you.” Still nothing, though I did see his grey-blue eyes flick to look me over before going back to stare at the chaos around us.

“Hmph,” I snorted, crossing my arms. “Well I guess I’ll just talk for the both of us.”

I pointed with the toe of my shoe. “That’s my brother, Caleb, over there,” I rambled. “He’s scared, too, you know. He’s my  _ older _ brother. I’m supposed to be the little sister. He’s supposed to be the one making me feel better.

“I don’t blame him. Neither of us are Dauntless so duh we’re gonna be scared. I woulda thought that he woulda been tougher than me though,” I continued. “That’s all. Uhm, what else…”

It was a struggle to find things to talk about. I talked about what my parents did every day. About what we were supposed to have for dinner. Wondered where our class pet, Pietro the white rat, would be. Wondered if we wouldn’t have to do our report on tectonic plates if the school wasn’t going to have a roof anymore. 

“There’s no point learning about tectonic plates,” the boy finally said. I had to stop myself from just going on to my next random thought. He’d spoken so softly.

“Chicago is so far away we’re never going to deal with anything that has to do with them. So why bother learning about them? Same thing for all the world history crap. They just keep saying most of the planet died anyways. What’s it matter if France pissed off Germany ages ago?” he grumbled. “Waste of time.”

I smiled. I thought the same thing. Sure, the tectonic plates were  _ interesting  _ but I was certainly never going to deal with them in my life. Abnegation didn’t do anything with geology ever. 

“Knowledge for knowledge’s sake seems really dumb, doesn’t it?” I joked. 

The boy winced. It was then that I realized his dusty slacks and jacket were originally cobalt blue. “Sorry,” I backpedaled. “I didn’t mean-”

“Eric? Eric that is you!” A shrill voice cut through the din around us. A blonde woman in a raincoat and mismatched sneakers rushed over and pulled the boy into an embrace. “Thank God you’re alright!”

Another wave of people had been brought in. Before I could blink twice I was left alone on the ground once again. I felt a bite of frustration that the boy’s mother hadn’t even said thank you for sitting with him. Then again, she probably assumed I was doing it just to be a good, selfless Abnegation.

And I had… hadn’t I?


	8. Dec 8th - Snowman building competition where the judges are children

Normality struggled against the tension that remained after the raids. I had actually gotten some sleep, showered, and gotten the chance to eat something that wasn’t dried or pre-packaged.

My head ached slightly from last evening’s gathering but it was worth it to have that camaraderie after sustaining a blow like that. Several Dauntless hadn’t come back from the line of defense. Victoria read off their names at the start of every clean-up shift to remind us of their sacrifice.

But for now I was off-rotation, given a chance to relax and take a breather. I took my mug of tea outside and just took in the sights. My city was beautiful. There was fresh snowfall coating the street. Dependents roamed around the entrance of Dauntless, watched carefully by parents in the doorways and benches. 

I nodded quietly at a pair of mothers standing by the post I leaned on. My tea cooled to a drinkable level and I got to enjoy the warmth in my stomach fight the brisk air outside. 

“Off shift?” Eric leaned against the post on the other side. He had a puffy lined coat on zipped right to his throat.

I nodded and sighed cheerfully. “It’s a rarity,” I commented. “It’s nice to just look at the snow instead of shovel it.”

As if to underscore my comment, a snowball came careening over to smack into my hand. Tea went  _ everywhere _ . The dependent who had thrown the snowball froze, eyes wide.

Eric cackled, causing the kid to flee behind the low walls of their makeshift fortifications. I shook my head and tried to salvage the last of my tea. 

“C’mon, Prior, stop being a nudge. It’s your day off; you should do something fun for once,” the blonde Leader poked my crossed arms with a pair of digits. I begrudgingly agreed. 

Somehow we ended up embroiled in a snowman competition. I think Eric had made a comment about “ex-Abnies” not understanding art. Well, that was the end of that. I was determined to prove him wrong such that I ended up sacrificing my own scarf and gloves to better equip my snowlady for the winter chill.

I argued that Eric’s snowman - who was really just three poorly made chunks of snow stacked atop one another - would never pass muster in his old faction. “It’s going to fall down if you breathe too hard near it,” I laughed, tears streaming down my windchilled face. 

The thing was ugly, but apparently mine did no better. Snowball kid from earlier finally risked showing his face near the “scary blonde lady leader” to tell me as such. In the end, both snowmen were cannon fodder for a renewed snowball fight as Eric and I rallied our respective crew of dependents against one another. 

Everyone won in the end because there was fresh tea and even hot chocolate for the kids back in the mess hall. I stole Eric’s coat to warm up, wrapping my hands around my new mug. He took it pretty well, rolling his eyes when I zipped it up past my nose. 

One of the dependents raced over to our table, practically spilling his cocoa. His glance over his shoulder to his parents made me giggle, but I fought to keep myself composed. 

“Thank you for not getting mad when you got snowballed and thank you for playing with us it was a lot of fun okay bye now.” His words rolled together but the intent was cute. I blinked and he was gone.

Eric chuckled into his sleeve. “What?” I hissed.

“Nothing, it’s just cute. They’re already loving you and you don’t even have your stripes yet,” he laughed.

I shrugged, trying to ignore the red flush crawling up my neck. “I had a good mentor.”


	9. Dec 9th - I work at a toy store and you keep coming in but never buy anything

 

“It’ll be fun.” The biggest lie ever told.

Stepping in for one of Richards’ initiation classmates at the Dauntless game and hobby shop was anything but. Despite the odd collection of train kits, RC toys, and building sets, working behind the counter wasn’t any fun whatsoever.

Dependents came in and fidgeted with the models before flouncing out without a single purchase.

Paying customers quarreled with me over prices, trying to argue over every quarter-point.

My feet ached worse standing behind that counter than they had working out on the fence. Even worse, the stab wound in my leg twinged every time I crouched to get a bag for someone.

A bell rang when a new customer came in. I groaned when I spotted Eric’s blonde faux-hawk bop through the aisles. “If you’re not buying, I’m going to kick you out,” I called out. He had been in and out all day long. He’d nod at the customers, give me a wink, and head out without saying anything.

Finally he came in when there wasn’t anyone else there. I hopped up onto the counter and looked over the metal racks that held the merchandise. Eric sauntered over, placing his hands on the counter next to my knees.

“You look cute with the little apron and nametag. They have the make that up for you just for one day?” Eric teased.

I crossed my arms though I couldn’t help the smile on my face. “I think Richards is trying to make sure I have an escape route if you guys end up picking Lexi or Gabe over me for next round of Leadership,” I said. “What’dya think? Think I could pull off the saleswoman thing for the next twenty years?”

“Mmm,” Eric mused. “Well you still haven’t managed to sell me anything yet, so I have to say I’m not convinced.”

I nudged him out of the way with the toe of my boot and slid off the counter. “You haven’t seen me try yet,” I insisted. “Come on, I’m sure there’s something that you want here.”

He trailed behind me, capturing my waist the moment we were out of view from the Pit. Eric nuzzled my neck, pulling me close to his chest. “There is one thing here that I’d like,” he murmured, “but I think it’s not for sale.”

We weren’t drunk. We weren’t goofing around under the mistletoe.

Still, Eric was kissing my neck and I wasn’t stopping him. I leaned in to his embrace and let him work his way from my collarbone up to my ear. “I have to tell you to stop. I’m on the clock,” I sighed.

Eric groaned. He waited a moment before letting go of my hips. I turned around, heat flushing along where he’d kissed up my neck. “You sure I can’t convince you to be a bad worker for a few more minutes? No one is in here except me,” he murmured.

I chewed on my lip. The temptation was strong. Very strong. “If you buy something, maybe. _Maybe_ ,” I quickly had to backpedal as he pulled me in a totally different direction. Eric grabbed a box from the shelf - a building kit that made a pair of train engines - and tossed it over to the checkout counter.

Shaking my head, I held a hand over his lips. “You have to actually buy it first,” I insisted. Growling, Eric _lifted me up_ by my hips and dropped me onto the counter.

“Take out the points now, Prior,” he grumbled. “I’m not a patient man.”

I couldn’t stop giggling while ringing him up. Naturally I took my time asking him if he found everything he wanted and if he would be interested in our monthly messages on new inventory options. He looked about ready to kill me by the time I had him sign for his train set.

Alright, so maybe retail wasn’t so bad when someone was rucking up your apron behind the checkout counter.


	10. Dec 10th - Your dad is Santa. He’s missing and we have to save Christmas.

Pounding on my apartment door at three in the morning was unfortunately not too unusual. I threw myself out of bed and grabbed my boots along the way to answer. When I opened it up, it took a moment to realize who was standing in front of me.

Eric’s hair was a mess and he was a far cry from put-together. “Tris, you gotta help me,” he breathed.

In that moment, still half-asleep and barely dressed, I was ready to do anything for him. That was the duty of being Dauntless. “You got it, Eric,” I said. “Just let me get dressed.”

He paced the entire time, raking a hand through his hair over and over again. “It’s a nightmare. Absolute nightmare,” I heard him mumble. It took poking and prodding but I got the situation report from him in bits and pieces.

After the raid last week there had been some civilians who were reported as missing with no leads on last known locations. Many had been found after a combination of failure-to-check-ins and recoveries from decimated buildings. I hadn’t realized, but Eric’s father had been in one of the buildings on the edge of Chicago which had been partially demolished by an RPG - yes, the raiders had brought fucking RPGs to try and blast their way into our storage centers.

It had taken three days for Erudite to admit that they still had a section of their faction who had just never been found. I threw on the first set of clothes I could find where I could move properly in and tugged on my boots. We were out the door and down to the motorpool before I even questioned how Eric must have been feeling.

When we got down there, I realized that it wouldn’t be smart to have Eric driving. Regardless of how little I’d been trained, at least my hands were steady. I hauled ass down the main roads, skirting just past the danger-zone that Richards had impressed upon during my driver training. I didn’t care. Eric’s father was Missing In Action. Three days trapped under rubble was dangerously on the edge of how long a person could survive.

“Talk to me, Coulter,” I said finally after sitting in tense silence. No matter how hard I pressed, I still wouldn’t be able to make it to Coulter Senior’s last known position any faster.

Eric was tense, his hands flexing on his lap. I had to speak up again before he would reply. “My father played Santa every year,” he said quietly. “That’s all I can think about. He has to make it. Erudite has our, their party every year this weekend.”

I didn’t have to ask any further. Eric continued to ramble off memories of his father as we bounded our way through the streets. By the time we pulled up to the last building to be searched, I was more than invested in finding Eric’s father. I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself if I failed him now.

Eric was out the door before the engine was off. I made sure to radio in our position to dispatch and call for any additional backup to help with the search. It took a minute for Kyle - of course Kyle was the one stuck on dispatch at four AM - to get back to me, but he assured me that “the job would be done.”

I got out and hustled over to what looked like a command center. There was a bit of confusion around who was in charge, something that I fought to rectify. There was an odd mixture of Erudite, Dauntless, and factionless all milling around trying to get a handle on the situation.

Eric took a fresh team into the building armed with sledgehammers, particle masks, and an EMT kit. I kept on the radio with him the entire time, giving him as much support as I could between my shouting matches with whoever was trying to give me a hard time.

The sun crept up. Four more trucks loaded with Dauntless search crews showed up. Kyle delivered and then some as these were tough sons of bitches, all raring to go.

I ended up kicking out a bunch of useless Erudites from my command center, sending them home to get rest before they got themselves or one of my crews hurt.

Around ten-thirty in the morning Eric’s voice came over the radio. “An elevator shaft got cracked. Sent down a cam and we got signs of life,” he breathed. Relief came over me the moment I heard it. Without a single bit of confirmation I knew somehow that Eric’s father was there.

Seven hours later we got the shaft opened up and a rig lined up to pull out the survivors. They sent down an EMT first to tend to any immediate wounded. Those who were able to came up one at a time in the harness. Every time one did, I felt my heart race faster and faster. What if I was wrong?

“We got wounded coming up!”

I was trapped in my created role of team leader, waiting to hear over radio waves if our efforts had been enough. My finger hovered over the radio call while I waited.

I wished I had a camera setup to watch the elevator shaft.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

My receiver hissed. “Repeat?” I barked.

“We got Coulter,” Eric’s voice was hoarse and I heard him cough to clear his throat. “I repeat, we have Charles Coulter. Injured and dehydrated, but alive.”  
I blinked back tears that pricked my eyes. “Roger. Report updated,” I croaked. We did good. Thank god, we did good.


	11. Dec 11th - I'm a barista and you keep making weird faces when you drink the "Christmas Cheer in a Cup" coffee I make. Why do you keep ordering it?

"Large 'Christmas Cheer' with no cream, lots of sugar, please," I ordered. Revenge was oh so sweet.

I leaned on a desk in the bullpen on the floor below Leadership. Things had settled down since the chaos this morning. I needed about ten more cups of coffee if I wanted to make it through the rest of the evening. There was about six inches of paperwork sitting in my inbox waiting to get processed. If I waited any longer, I would never be able to catch back up. Hence, the mega-mix of caffeine and mocha that was the office coffee.

Eric had already been making himself a pot. I was merely taking advantage of the situation. "Can't make your own coffee, Prior?" he asked. Still, I saw him pull out another mug and start shoveling sugar into both.

We took our coffee the same way. That meant something, right?

I shrugged, unable to stop the smirk on my face. "I just thought since you were already making some I could get on that train."

He leaned over the desk and mirrored my position. "You followed me down here to steal my coffee. You're not going to tell me otherwise," he intoned.

"Yeah, I saw you leave and wanted to watch that ass leave," I joked.

"Knew it!" Eric crowed. He bopped me gently on the nose. "Can't hide anything from me."

"You are a know-it-all Nose," I shot, poking him right back.

He barked out a laugh. The coffeepot beeped and he poured out our coffees. I looped my arm through his as we went back upstairs, slapping him playfully as I left him at his office.

"If you need a refill, I'll get it this time," I offered. "You know where to find me."

Eric didn't go in immediately, beckoning me over with a crook of his finger. "I didn't get my fee. A kiss for a drink seems fair."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that how we're doing things now?" I teased. I didn't mind though and I didn't want things to end up like the mistletoe incident. Lifting up on my tiptoes, I planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for the coffee, Eric."


	12. Dec 12th - I just got locked out. I was baking cookies that will burn if I don't get in there quick

Sleep didn't come easily. Actually, it barely came at all. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable for more than a few minutes before I needed to stretch out a cramp in my arm or adjust to keep the mattress from stabbing into my bruised leg.

Rather than suffer on for perpetuity I decided what I really needed was something to drink and maybe a granola bar. Neither were available in my cabinets; I'd pretty much snacked my way through my bought provisions between all the late nights and early mornings.

That was how I ended up down in the kitchens at three AM. I thought my excuse was pretty reasonable. I didn't quite expect to see Eric down there with a cloth apron tied about his waist and flour on his forehead.

"Please tell me you're sleep-cooking," I teased. He looked up from the counter and blanched. "Damn, wrong again."

He wiped batter off of his hands and just shook his head. "You looking for something or are you just here to ruin my ten minutes of quiet?" Eric sighed. There was no bite in his words though. If he didn't actually want me around, he wouldn't have nudged me as he walked by to put a sheet of cookies in the oven.

Still I didn't want to bother him. I shook my head and grabbed a clean glass from the drying rack. When I mentioned getting a drink and a snack, Eric gave me a wonderfully terrible idea of getting ice cream.

Wonderful because who doesn't love creamy vanilla when you can't sleep.

Terrible because when I couldn't find it, Eric joined me in the walk-in freezer. Here's a fun fact: the Dauntless walk-in had a busted door. We learned this glorious fact when we tried to _leave_ the freezer with our newly acquired treats and found ourselves effectively trapped.

"Motherfucker," Eric growled, pounding on the metal door one final time. He slid to the ground, defeated.

I crossed my arms. Regret was overtaking frustration as I had only pulled on a hoodie over my nightshirt and shorts. It was _cold_. "Someone will find us eventually," I grumbled right back. "It's just going to suck until then, that's all."

Eric looked up at me, a wry smile across his face. "I know that. I wasn't exactly thinking we were going to die here," he said.

"Then why're you so angry?" I bit my lip to keep from shivering. The chill was seeping through my bare feet. Somehow I was already colder now than I'd been in any snowstorm.

He patted the floor next to him. "My cookies," he said by way of explanation. "C'mere. You look like you're about to shiver yourself into next week."

I obliged him, tucking myself under the crook of his extended arm. "I'm still bad-ass," I grumbled. "A little cold won't stop me. I could have toughed it out."

I felt him chuckle silently. His chest rumbled just so and Eric tipped his head to rest atop mine. "I know you _could have_. Next time I'll just let you freeze." I shuffled into his embrace more but I drew the line at taking his shoes. It turned into a game of seeing how long I could keep my feet off of the ground before I lost my balance and had to step on the icy floor.

Eric kept a tally of how many times I messed up. I threatened to sock him in the jaw if he didn't "shut the everloving fuck up." He stopped, but I suspected by the time tomorrow rolled around - well, today technically - he would have "accidentally" told his friends the whole story.

The cookies were a lost cause by the time someone heard the smoke detector. I didn't much relish the dressing down one _very_ exasperated patrol officer gave us about false fire alarms. Still, we nodded dutifully and swore to not let it happen again.

I helped Eric make the rest of the recipe. The bake was too crunchy in the first batch and too soft in the second. Either way, they tasted phenomenal and we saved a grand total of ten to put on Kyle's desk for the day.

It had to be five in the morning by the time we were done. I leaned on the counter, watching Eric dry the last measuring cup we'd used. "I'll give you anything in the world if you give me a piggyback ride back to my apartment," I sighed. Exhaustion was catching up, finally.

He agreed. I had expected him to ask for another kiss but he surprised me. "Let's do a do-over sometime next week. This time though, you make the batter and I'll lick the spoon and look cute," Eric teased. I shook his hand.

Perched on his back, I could have touched the ceilings of the tunnels as he trundled to the elevator. I was too tired to try, my hands clasped around his chest. I think I heard him say hi to someone getting off the elevator but it was hard to tell. My eyes had fluttered closed and I abandoned my battle to stay awake.


	13. Dec 13th - You made me an ugly Christmas sweater

When I woke up, I thought I was going to die.

To clarify, this death would not be from something as noble as taking a bullet for a loved one or tragic as succumbing to a deadly virus. Embarrassment is neither noble nor tragic. Well, maybe it was tragic but not in the literal way.

Either way though, it was going to kill me. I pried my sleep-coated eyes open with all the grace of an animal and flopped onto my stomach. That was when I felt something poking my skin. All over.

"She lives! We can call off the EMTs. Prior lives to fight another battle."

Scratch that. Eric's ego was going to kill me.

I rolled over, teetered on the edge of an unfamiliar couch, and lost the battle with gravity. The thunk pushed me into full awareness and I got to get a good, long look at my situation. I was in Eric's apartment. Dressed not in my comfortable shorts and hoodie but rather in a gaudy sweatsuit in a horrendous clash of forest green and cherry red panels.

The top had, to complete the disgusting affair, pom-poms and plastic molded candy canes attached with twenty thousand stitches. "What. Am I. Wearing," I growled.

Eric _beamed_. "You said the other night that you didn't have anything to wear to the Christmas Eve party," he crooned. "I thought you needed something sufficiently festive. So, I contacted my favorite elves and they got me some exquisite materials."

I picked at one of the candy canes, scowling when it refused to budge. "Please don't tell me you spent actual points on this abomination," I threatened.

"Just a few favors."

I didn't know whether to be happy or pissed. I stuck with my first instinct and threw a couch cushion at him. "I'm not wearing this, ever!" I hollered. The pants came off first, my sleep shorts still on underneath. Eric might be an ass, but at least he wasn't boorish enough to strip me down while unconscious. The sweatshirt ended up on his head, followed by another cushion because why the hell not.

Regardless, I knew not to be surprised when I found both pieces of clothing in my mailbox later that day, complete with a red bow and note.

_You seem to have forgotten these when you slept over._

_Careful, it looks suspicious when a strange man has your clothes._


	14. Dec 14th - I met you on Christmas but haven't seen you since, until today. Are you an angel?

"I can talk to my brother in Erudite about that. When last we spoke he mentioned being on the transition team for the journal, so he should be privy to the official figures and how they're going to be reported," I offered. It felt good to finally have something to contribute to the weekly meetings. I'd turned a corner from Leadership-trainee-awkwardly-listening-from-the-corner-of-the-table to Leadership-trainee-hesitantly-participating-in-inter-Factional-discussions.

Corporal Melanie gave me a subtle thumbs up, furthering the satisfaction I was feeling. I looked down at my notebook and scrawled a note to get in contact with Caleb. "Excellent," Valerie said. She nodded to herself, and scanned the agenda in front of her. We were at the end of the meeting and I was thankful when no one had anything to add when the Leader opened the table up for open discussion.

I tucked my notebook under my arm and slipped out of the conference room. Lexi looked to be shooting daggers at me with her eyes. She was an Erudite transfer, I remembered on the stairwell back up. Oh well. It wasn't my fault that I'd spoken up. If she had a contact back in her old faction, she should have spoken up.

My office was blissfully empty - Kyle was manning the front desk as usual - and I could set about to finding the comm line to Erudite. It would be better to set up that meeting now while I still remembered to. I was sure Caleb wouldn't have much more than a few minutes to talk which was fine by me. It still rubbed me in an odd way that he had been on Jeanine's research team even if he was just following his PI's orders.

A soft knock on the doorframe caught my attention. "Yeah? Oh hey Eric," I chirped automatically when I spotted him there. I went back to pulling up the comm lines on my desktop and copied down the extension that would be most proper to reach out. Calling Caleb's direct line would be convenient, but being just a few months out from Initiation I wanted to avoid anything that looked too much like familial closeness. I found his department's line and wrote that one down.

Eric still hadn't said anything. When I looked up again he was sitting in Kyle's chair, frowning and just staring at me. "What's up?" I asked tentatively. This was _not_ normal, even for Eric.

"You have a brother," he said simply. The frown deepened as his brow furrowed.

"That is correct. His name's Caleb and he's an ass. But he's my brother," I added. "Older brother."

Eric's eyes flicked away for a moment as he blinked. They returned to scan my face. "Do you remember the Christmas Eve airstrike?" His change in topic was sudden and utterly confounding.

I clicked my pen shut and moved to sit on the corner of my desk facing him. "Of course I do. Everyone does. It was a mess. People died. They talked about it for years afterwards. 'Worst damage to Chicago's infrastructure of the last century,'" I parroted back the phrase that was slammed into our heads every year in Faction History.

"Right but do you… remember the actual- Nah, never mind," Eric quickly stood up, running a hand through his hair. "It's dumb. Forget it."

He tried to walk out of the office. For once I was thankful for how freakishly tight it was because I could just reach out an arm and block the doorway. "Eric, what is it?" I pressed. Anything that had him this worked up must have been important.

"I just… something reminded me of that day, that's all. But I'm sure it's just co-incidence," he murmured. "You can go back to whatever you were doing."

I may be ex-Abnegation but I was certainly not a pushover. Eric was trying to backpedal away from a conversation that I now made my mission to get out of him. "Everyone evacuated the schools and public buildings to the airport," I said. "It took hours and not everyone got there at the same time. Dauntless kept all the kids together until their parents could come get them."

I couldn't read the emotion on Eric's face. Still, he wasn't stopping me from talking and I plowed ahead. "The Lower Level classes - mine in particular - took forever to get there. We got put with the Mid Level kids. My brother and I got there together. Not everyone was that lucky."

"Caleb," Eric echoed. I nodded.

"Yep. He-"

"You thought he should have been tougher because he was older," Eric said quickly over me.

It was my turn to frown. "I, yeah. That's exactly what happened. I remember because-"

Before I could keep going Eric pulled me into a bear hug. His chin dug into my collarbone from how tight he clung to me. "I knew it was you. It was so obvious but I didn't think it was right," he mumbled into my hair.

I threaded my hands under his vest and hugged him back. It was a relief, somehow, to take that memory and put a name to the boy. Not just a name, an identity. Emotion filled Eric's voice as he choked out his next words. "I thought you were an angel. An honest to God angel," he said hoarsely.

Finally he pulled back, just enough to look over my face with complete wonder and bewilderment. "You talked and talked and it made me forget how scared I was."

I didn't know what to say to that. It didn't matter to Eric though. He was more than caught-up in his elation. He kissed me. This time wasn't about desire or romance or the budding _something_ between us that we were both ignoring. His kiss was tender, ending as gently as it began.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"For what?"

Eric laughed. I could feel it through his chest as he continued to hold me. "For being you."


	15. Dec 15th - We're totally separated over the holidays. We end up talking on the phone for hours, to the annoyance of everyone around us

"Seriously, he came into my apartment and just fell asleep on my couch," I drawled into the mic. "No word of a lie."

"Come on, Kyle has more class than that."

"You've met the man, right? I haven't just dreamed of the two of you bickering," I shot back dryly.

"I just have a hard time imagining him crashing at your place instead of with his boyfriend."

"Isn't Richards away?"

"He's not in my squad. Either way, why would Rich not being there effect where he sleeps? They live together."

Eric had a point. I rapped my fingers on the desk, humming. "I think he was too drunk to care? Like I said, he just knocked on the door and didn't say two words to me."

"Sounds fun."

"Yeah, sure. I'm just loving having to cover his ass this morning on the desk."

I jumped as a file folder slapped down on the desk. Corporal Melanie, better known as one of my trainers, looked irritated. I slammed the comm unit down and plastered a smile on my face. "So sorry! It's been so slow," I said by way of explanation.

She huffed. "So you're stepping in for Kyle. Again?"

"Again, yep." There wasn't much else to say. "So you need these processed? I can put them through."

Melanie nodded stiffly. She was a woman of few words, which was fine by me.

I waited until the corporal had left before I chanced picking up the comm again. "Are you still there?" I murmured. "Please don't leave me."

"Can't live without me?"

"No, I'm just dying of boredom."

Static came over the line as he sighed. "Couldn't just let me have that?"

"Where would the fun be in that?"


	16. Dec 16th - You're robbing the bank on Christmas Eve and I'm a hostage but you're actually really nice

Deep breaths. In and out. Sweat beaded at the nape of my neck to drip down my spine.

My hands clenched, white-knuckles stark from beneath fingerless gloves. The rifle in my hands seemed excessive. Any remaining security at the depot surely wouldn't be armed to the teeth like my squad was. We had already eliminated the guards at the front gate, all without a single shot fired.

Eyes watched, unblinking as my fellow squadmates awaited the command to go. I nodded and the battering ram blasted into the side door. Wood splintered. Two more hits and there was a person-shaped hole available.

The ram cast aside, we rushed in. Suppressing fire sprayed out in a fan of lead and copper. I whistled through my teeth when I saw enough of the supply depot to determine the coast was clear. My team moved in unison. Our steps were practiced, precise. Spread out in a wave, divide and conquer.

"This is a stick-up," I shouted. I levelled my rifle at the bare-bones crew of workers that my team gathered up. "If you feel like being a hero, be my guest. But we're taking what we came for. Don't make us take your life, too."

For the most part my words had their intended effect. The workers were just here to organize and deal with the foodstuffs that were stored here, not defend against an insurgent force from another city-state. They weren't about to fight back. A few thrashed against the zip-ties that bound their hands but I wasn't too worried.

What did worry me was the one guy who sat silently, his grey eyes watching, waiting. "Form up!" I bellowed. "Jameson, start extracting what we came for. Lex, watch his six. I don't trust how easy this has been."

Grey-eyes continued to watch. I slung my rifle onto my shoulder and crouched in front of him - far enough away that he couldn't reach me but still close. "Hi there," I chirped.

He didn't respond. "You work here long?"

"Fuck off."

I laughed. It ate at him, I could tell. The way he turned his head to look anywhere but at me gave it away. Revenge was sweet. "You know, you might want to invest in better security. Or at least thicker doors. The side one went down without a fight, much like your guards." I had a pile of pistols and unused capsaicin spray to prove it.

That made him groan. "Please tell me they're alive," he grunted.

"Of course. We're not monsters. They're stacked in a nice little pile. Tied up, naturally, but alive," I joked. "That's the way I like 'em, tied up and gagged."

Amusement sparked in grey-eye's expression before he quickly clamped down on any potential laughter. "You won't get away with this."

Jameson tapped me on my shoulder and told me they'd loaded up and were waiting for my command to go. I winked at my not-so-chatty captive and stood up. "Looks like I just did. Good line though, I'll have to remember that for my diary tonight," I said.

The room, my clothes, the very air shattered into a thousand pieces as my mind resolved truth from reality. The room emptied to the sim practice chamber, the familiar Dauntless graffiti greeting me. About half of my squad straight-up vanished, having been artificial drones to fill in the gaps of our tactical crew. The "captives" all disappeared as well, save for the steely-eyed grouch.

Eric hauled himself to his feet, rubbing at wrists that were perfectly fine. "Nice job, trainees. You made it inside without any casualties. Smooth operation overall. You do get points off for that pointless gunfire when you got inside though; that would have been a complete waste of ammo for no gain," he critiqued.

I rubbed my eyes as I listened. The change in perception from reality to sim back to reality always messed with my head. "I said it would be effective as a scare tactic, so I'll take the points off," I countered. "It was my op after all."

"Noted," Eric said. "Even still, you all did great. You can head out. Prior, you can make up for the poor call by helping with cleanup."

My friends and fellow trainees high fived and promised to find me at dinner later tonight. For now they were all exhausted; leaping around and dealing with combat still wore you out in the sims. Eric's punishment of cleaning up was genuine, if not a little excessive for the single bad judgement call.

Simulation serum vials had to be inventoried before going back in the cabinet. Observation leads needed to be wiped down with alcohol wipes and carefully packed away. It wasn't tough work, just tedious. Eric and I chatted while we worked, going over the different twists and tricks that he'd tried to put into the program.

"You still look like you," I admitted. "Like, more cleaned up and without the buzzed hair, but I can still tell who is fake and who is you."

That made him laugh. "Same to you." His admission surprised me.

"Really? I thought it was a Divergent thing - being able to tell who's a sim-person and who isn't."

Eric shook his head. "Nah. Not as far as I know," he quickly amended. "It's nothing that can really be seen through any more than you can see through walls. You might realize that the situation is fake - because your brain realizes that you never actually did anything to end up where you are - but the changes that affect how people look is entirely cosmetic. I have it change my haircut and clothes. That won't stop someone who actually _knows_ me from realizing it's me."

I paused in my cleaning to really look at Eric across the table. I guess I really did know him pretty well.

"You do," he said quietly. I hadn't realized that I'd been thinking out loud and I quickly looked back at the box of leads to avoid eye contact. "That's not a bad thing. At least to me it isn't."

"I like that you know me, Tris," Eric continued. He reached across the table to squeeze my hand for a moment.

I didn't know what to say. "I'm glad you know me - the real me - too," I said quietly.


	17. Dec 17th - I was dressed up as an elf for my job, but you were drunk and thought I actually knew Santa.

Let me preface this with a bit of self-defense:

I know that Santa is in fact not real. If he had been real, there was no way that his red-suited, jolly old self survived the molten apocalypse of chaos that was the End of Civilized World as it was Once Known.

But drunk-Tris, she is a bit less convinced of the falsehood of Saint Nicholas.

It started with yet another holiday party. Yes, we have a lot of them. No, we're definitely not overcompensating from the increased stress level of surviving the factions attempting to devour one another and _then_ dealing with a fairly successful attack on our city. That would be ridiculous and would suggest that we should get some additional therapy in our eternal free time that we totally have.

Beyond all of that, I got over my wariness of spiked eggnog. The odd taste was covered up by spiced rum and drinking contests where one had to drink any time that the word "Christmas" was said. It became a cursed word followed by the clinking of glassware and a round of yelling at the bastard who dared speak of the holiday.

Everything kind of went sideways when some people came in dressed in costumes. Elf costumes to be precise. I got the chance to leave Christina and Will - they were half in each others' pants and it was getting difficult to ignore that - and join up with my older-and-yet-not-really-more-mature friends.

Kyle shucked his green elf hat within seconds, gifting it to a particularly giddy Melanie. He let me sit on his shoulders after I asked him what the world looked like from so high up. Even drunk-me knew how dumb it was to say but it gave the chance to be taller than everyone else.

"Hey Eric! Ericccc!" I called out from my newfound perch. "Lookie lookie!" Eric was in the elf squad, dressed in god awful green felt and what looked like wooden clogs.

He made me leave my perch when Kyle wanted to move, insisting that I was going to get sick. "You just want me to be short again," I whined. "Jealous much?" I latched on to his arm as the floor tried to trip me.

"That's exactly right," he said with a laugh. "I'm also super jealous of your drink. What is that?" I passed him my eggnog and informed him of the Christmas rule. He ended up keeping the glass, holding it above my head whenever the call to drink went out again.

"Thief!" I complained. "I thought elves were supposed to give things."

He was a good sport, telling me that he was going to take my drinks for me for a little while so that I wasn't 'cheating' at the drinking game. "That will be my gift to you tonight," Eric said.

Richards snorted. "That all you're going to give her?"

My support beam wavered as Eric punched the redhead hard on the shoulder. "Elves don't give things out anyways. Santa does," he growled.

Oh my god. How had I forgotten? My eyes widened and I tugged fervently at Eric's felted tunic. "Eric hey hey hey Eric hey," I whispered. Or rather, I tried to whisper. It was kind of a toss up between pronouncing words and speaking quietly.

"I didn't ever tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas. D'you think y'could give him my list?"

Eric laughed for a solid minute. I thwacked him on the chest after I'd had enough and he finally stopped. "You're joking, right?" he said, wiping tears from his face.

"I never joke. I gotta tell 'im," I insisted. "You work for him. Can you get him my list? Please?"

Please don't forget what I said - _Sober_ Tris knew 100% without a doubt that Santa did not exist.

A smirk took over Eric's face; he was thinking of something clever. Or he was just being smug. Or he had something stuck in his teeth. No wait. He hadn't eaten any popcorn. It was one of the other two.

"I do happen to know a guy. My dad has a, ah, direct line to the big guy," he said in a low voice. "You come with me to the hospital next time and he'll take your list."

Eric poked me cheerfully on the nose. I didn't care because _holy shit I would still get what I wanted for Christmas_. "Eeee!" I shrieked. "Thaaaaaank you, 'Ric!"

Richards jumped on that like a wolf on a bloody doe. "Rick! Can I come too? I desperately need to make sure Santa knows exactly how many chocolate reindeer to bring this year," he cooed. "Please Rick! Please!"

It was hilarious even though he was making fun of me messing up Eric's name. It irritated Eric and made him hand the eggnog back to me so that he could wrestle the driver to the ground. "I yield! I yield!" Richards squeaked through the chokehold Eric put him in.

The rest of the night was a lot spottier than that, devolving into different levels of lame party games that were a lot more fun with how much booze had been consumed. When the rum ran out there was a near mutiny until someone got a pool of points going to get another set of bottles.

When I woke up the next day - my brain practically a puddle inside my skull - I didn't much appreciate the present demands that I'd scrawled on my forearm in permanent marker. Then again, it wasn't as bad as the christmas carol lyrics that were poking out from under Eric's shirt for the rest of the day.


	18. Dec 18th - You hate Christmas because you've never had a good one. So I go all out to make this the best Christmas for you

"Have you noticed that Richards has been pretty down lately?" Eric's question caught me off guard. I finished the rep of moves I was doing on the punching bag before I really thought about it.

My hands hurt. My back ached. "He's a pretty grouchy guy to begin win," I commented. The blonde handed me my water bottle, the cap already off. My hero.

Eric leaned against the bag, giving me a chuckle when it tipped a bit too far and he had to stumble to keep his balance. " _I'm_ a grouchy guy to begin with. Richards treats it like an art form," he joked. "But I'm serious. The guy hasn't been working as much, has spent days off with Kyle, yet still looks like you've kicked his cat every single day."

I shrugged. "Maybe he hates winter? It's a rough season," I theorized. He took my water bottle back and moved back behind me. I settled into a squat and started my next series of reps.

"I'm off to investigate. Figure out what's wrong with Rich," Eric said. I spotted his jaunty farewell wave and paused to give him a two-finger salute.

\---

"It's Christmas" was the first thing Eric said to me when I got to the cafeteria for lunch. I hadn't even sat down yet.

"Beg pardon?" I asked, levering my way in-between the bench and table. Someone had moved it too close to the tabletop but now there were too many people sitting to move it again. Annoying.

Eric stole one of my potato chips and used it to point vaguely outside the cafeteria. "Richards. He's been upset because of the holiday," he explained.

That made sense, sort of. Winter had started pretty early this year, cold fronts bringing in weakling storms as early as October so it stood to reason that the season change wasn't what had kept darling Richards down in the dumps. "Please don't tell me you just walked up to him and asked him why he was upset," I said with a groan.

Steel-grey eyes narrowed. "I'm not _that_ straightforward," Eric grumbled. I let the comment go, choosing to start attacking my sandwich with reckless abandon instead. "No but really. Melanie was talking with Kyle and he said that Richards hasn't had a good Christmas, ever."

"You're shitting me."

"I cannot tell what you said but I'm assuming what you _meant_ was 'how interesting Eric. You're the greatest detective since detectives were a thing.' We're fixing this, by the way. I've decided," he said matter-of-factly.

I raised an eyebrow, swallowed, and stared at him. "You're joking."

Eric leaned back with his arms crossed, smiling that damn smug smile I despised. "I never joke about helping others."

\---

Helping Richards in Eric's mind meant staying up into the wee hours of daybreak in the motorpool. He had procured an unsettling amount of miniature light strings and coils of cut ivy. The lights provided an interesting challenge as their plug didn't work in any of the sockets installed in Richards' truck. This was realized approximately ten seconds after I'd carefully tacked them around the interior roof to mimic a winter night's sky.

Eric called in a favor and got one of his buddies with a basic knowledge of electrical wiring to strip the connector and attach a 12 volt plug instead. I still had to move the entire string of lights though since the stripping took off much-needed inches to _reach_ the socket. Hence why it took us so long to decorate the whole damn truck.

The end result was obnoxious, something I made sure to let Eric know. He waved away my concerns, insisting that the intent was what was important. "Besides, I moved things around in the schedule and got him the week after Christmas off. He might still hate the holiday but at least he's got something to look forward to afterwards," Eric explained.

I wanted to wait around for Richards to come by and see his redesigned truck but exhaustion beat me out. I ended up napping with Eric's knee as a pillow. It wasn't that comfortable, but I didn't much care. Sleep was sleep. I figured he'd wake me when Richards came by.


	19. Dec 19th - I was cold, so you gave me your jacket but now you're cold too. So I suggest we hug instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly after the previous drabble:

Eric's vest, while incredibly useful for holding pins, ammo clips, and granola bars alike, was absolutely useless for keeping warm. The motorpool heating system was iffy, sending in waves of hot air at random intervals. Clearly the thermostat was either non-functional or just a complete joke.

I tugged at it, trying to find a balance between covering my bare arms and insulating my legs. There wasn't enough fabric though and I eventually gave up. "Eric, I'm freezing," I admitted. "Can we just leave a note for Richards?"

He jerked awake, steel-grey eyes blinking quickly. "Hmm? What?"

"I'm cold. Can we leave a note and go back to where the heat actually works?" I repeated. I fought an internal argument over whether the concrete leaching the heat through my tac pants was worse than the draft coming under the truck. Both fucking sucked.

Eric shook his head, not to disagree but to force himself into wakefulness. "C'mere. I'll keep you warm. Shouldn't be too much longer for Rich to come by," he offered. His arm lifted, allowing me to move from lying on the ground to burrowing in the crook of his arm. "Better?"

"A little. Still chilly."

His free hand rubbed my shoulder violently, friction and contact instilling more warmth into my tired body. "That's all I got," Eric admitted with a laugh. "Give it ten more minutes and then I'll drop you off at your apartment."

I hummed in agreement before wrapping my arms around his waist. It was kind of uncomfortable, scrunched against him on the floor of the motorpool, but it was warmer than it had been. Eight minutes in one of the other drivers in Richards' shift came in. He looked completely taken aback by the decked-out truck, letting out a whistle.

"Did Kyle put you two up to this?" he asked.

I shook my head, too tired and cold to give a full answer. "Nope. Original idea. Eric's."

The sergeant laughed. "Well that explains a few things. Richards is off shift today. You would have been waiting a hell of a time before seeing him," he said.

I turned my head slowly to look at the blonde space heater I was currently attached to. Deathly quiet, I said through gritted teeth, "Wouldn't that have been important to know?"

"I'll get you a hot coffee, too, Prior?" Eric offered, running a hand through his hair.

"One a day until Christmas," I growled. "Now I'm going to my apartment before I end up frozen to the floor."


	20. Dec 20th - I've never seen snow in person before, until now, what is this white stuff falling from the sky? Why are you laughing at me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circa 9 years before Tris' Choosing.

There was a difference between seeing snow through the smoked glass of early-childhood memories and genuinely understanding what snow was. I stood on my tip-toes to watch the crystalline powder rain down from the clouds, nose squished into the ice-cold glass of the school corridor window.

It was beautiful. More beautiful than anything I'd ever seen before.

The frost that dusted the edges of the panes only added to the picturesque vision of winter. Pulling my face back, I rubbed away the fog that crept onto the widow from my nose before once again getting as close as possible to the glass. It wasn't enough. I needed to be out there, in the snow. Tearing my eyes away from the mystical spectacle, I stepped into the flow of students around me. It was easy enough to edge out of the crowd and slip out through the stairwell doors.

After all, no one paid any attention to a rogue Abnegation girl. Invisibility suited me today. My teacher probably wouldn't notice that I wasn't eating in the lunchroom with my other classmates.

Outside, I could truly marvel at the snowfall. Each flake that landed on my sweater's sleeves was a perfect hexagon of glass, glinting in the muted sunlight before slowly melting into the heavy wool. I stuck my tongue out to capture a few of the lazier droplets.

"Hey look, the Stiff's gone all frozen stiff!"

"What's a Stiff doing out here all on her lonesome? Sounds like a recipe for trouble. No one around to help the helper."

I jerked around when I heard the voices. My hands trembled. I recognized the trio of boys standing in front of me; they were from Erudite and more than two years my senior. I thought they had moved on to Mid Levels and would stop pestering my friends and I. Wishful thinking.

I curled my fingers into fists to hide the trembling. Maybe it would make me look tougher, too. "Go away!" I cried. It only further attracted their attention.

The ringleader, a burly brute who certainly didn't embody the spirit of curiosity, swaggered over to me. I flinched when he grabbed the front of my sweater. "I think she's snuck out of class," he crooned. "She's not even wearing a coat. What's the matter, Stiff? Finally realized you're a waste of space?"

My stomach turned and I blinked furiously to hold back hot tears. "I said go away!" My fist slamming against his shoulder didn't affect him; it hurt _my_ knuckles a lot though. "I just wanna look at the snow. Leave me alone! Why do you have to be so mean?"

The pair of lackeys looked at one another. They weren't as invested in mocking a girl from Lower Levels, even if she was a 'Stiff.' Still, the ringleader was having fun. I could tell from the way his mouth turned in a nasty smirk.

"What're you going to do about it? Just be a nice little Stiff and let us have our fun."

"Hey Jason, come on man. Don't be a dick," one of the lackeys spoke up. "It's cold. I wanna go inside." The other murmured in agreement, though he didn't push any further. Cowards.

"I'll go inside when I want to," the ringleader snapped. He was still holding my sweater, pulling the fabric to keep me from running away. His attention went back to me. "I can give you a real nice look at the snow. Here, let me show you!"

My heart hammered in my chest. This was not okay. I just wanted to stand in the yard and look around! Why were they being so cruel? The boy gripped my shoulders and shoved me, spinning me about. My feet tripped over each other and I went face-first onto the ground. Asphalt and ice-crystals scraped at my cheek, my palms, my sweater.

Tears flowed freely now. It didn't hurt, not enough to really merit the whole crying jag, but I couldn't hold them back any more. I heard the boy behind me, laughing. Then he grabbed the back of my sweater again. I was yanked back to my feet only to be spun again. "Look, you're in a blizzard!" he cackled.

Neither lackey spoke up now, not when I got shoved to the ground again nor when I started wailing. When I felt the hand on my back again, I lashed out with both feet. Kicking frantically, I felt snowboot meet with soft flesh. Stocky though the boy might have been, he didn't have a strong center of balance. He hit the ground far harder than I had, gasping as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

"Jerk!" I cried. My scraped hands hurt when I pushed myself back to my feet, but I ignored the pain as I curled my fingers into fists again. I got in two good hits to his face before the other two boys grabbed me.

"Leave him alone you brat!" one of them cried. He shoved me away and helped his friend stand back up. I glowered at the both, a snarl on my face. Everything was ruined. I would be in trouble surely for showing up to class with scraped hands. Worse, I'd be in even more trouble if I went to the nurse's office. They would have to write up a report about the injury. My teacher might not bother with the effort. After all, I was just a Stiff kid. We got beat up all the time.

The pair of boys scampered away, leaving me with the one who had tried to speak up against "Jason." I yanked out of his grip and wiped my gritty palms against my pants. It stung, sending a fresh wave of tears up over my cheeks.

The boy stood there, confusion and worry in his grey eyes. "What are you looking at?" I snarled. Everything hurt, from my hands to my shoulders to my pride. I didn't need some Mid Level kid's pity.

"I… I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have done something."

He turned on his heel and hurried away, his head bowed so low he must have been staring at the ground. I lowered myself to the ground, legs crossed over one another. I would sit here a moment and let the snow fall on my face and hands and knees.

Snowflakes landed one after another on me. I watched as they melted away, perfection ruined by the hot blood bursting from under my skin.


	21. Dec 21st - We got into an argument because of something stupid, but I slipped on ice. I called you to help me, and our fight was forgotten when you got all worried

"What on Earth are you ranting about?" Eric asked. His forehead was furrowed and his attention locked on to me. I refused to give him an inch. I was angry, dammit.

Snarling, I slammed my hand on his desk. "You. Me. Lower Levels. You had that friend Jason, the complete twat. He liked to pick on Abnies - sorry, _Stiffs_." The words spat from my mouth, venomous, toxic.

Recognition flared. "Oh shit, _Jason_ ," Eric said. And that was it. No defense. No apology.

I leaned on one hip and crossed my arms. "Oh shit, Jason," I sneered, parroting his words. "That all you have to say?"

That was the final push. The kid gloves were off. Eric stood quickly, his chair overturning behind him. "What do you want me to say? Sorry that I was friends with a jackass? It's not going to happen. It was ten _years_ ago!"

When I got angry, the world narrowed. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I couldn't stand his face, his complete lack of _respect_ for the hell that I was bringing up. "That would be a start. Show that you're not the same pathetic coward just following around the schoolyard bully. But that might be a bit too advanced for you. I mean, fuck, you followed Max around without too much complaint. Right up until he tried to give you over to Erudite. That's when you act, isn't it? When it's your ass on the line instead of some nobody," I shouted.

"Tris," he started, reaching for me.

"Are you going to apologize or not?" I snapped. "It's a simple question. There are two answers and neither starts with my name."

Eric glowered. His hand fell back to the desk, the shakes stilling as he pressed his palm flat to the wood. "I don't think I have to," he replied. Stubborn as ever.

"Then you don't come near me. Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me," I ordered.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Not a problem."

"Fine."

"Great."

\--- 

Rage does funny things to people. It makes them dumb, headstrong, and more than a bit unstable. Rage gives me energy and the need to burn it right there and then. The training room called to me but too many memories of working with Eric there put a sour taste in my mouth. I stormed past Kyle on the stairs, ignoring his greeting. Outside, then.

The snow and the wind ate at the fire in my belly. I only had a long sleeve shirt on and tac pants, so I had to start jogging to fight against the bitter cold. Going back to my apartment for a coat or sweatshirt would put me within the radius of Eric's apartment. No thank you.

My mind played our argument in a loop. No matter how I looked at it, Eric should have apologized. When I woke up this morning all that I could think of when I saw the snow outside was that memory of the schoolyard. Once again Eric and I had crossed paths without realizing it. And he refused to acknowledge he was wrong for not sticking up for a lone kid who did _literally_ nothing wrong.

Modern-day Eric would have beaten Jason to a pulp. Or so I thought. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he would slowly disappoint me more and more, the closer that I got to him.

I sniffed and rubbed away the tracks on my cheeks. I wasn't running fast enough if I could cry and think and run all at once. Turning blindly onto the first intersecting road I came to, I felt the ground give way beneath my boots.

My hands clawed at the air, looking for purchase that wasn't there. I fell, pain shooting up from my hip along my back. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't see.

Gasping for air, I fought to regain control over my body. The world spun, faded, lept to full brightness in my eyesight. Breathe in. Breathe out. Feel the slick ice beneath you, unmoving and solid.

Once I could sort of think, I reached for the comm in my side pocket. "Switchboard? Can you get me Medical?"

\---

Will came with Christina. He refused to let me move from the sitting position I'd struggled up to until he verified that I didn't have any broken ribs. It was utterly embarrassing having to cling to Christina to make it back to the main entrance. One leg refused to take my full weight.

When I got to the infirmary the doctor confirmed Will's field diagnosis. The fall had aggravated my leg wound on top of bruising a good fifth of my body. Laying in that medical bed was infuriating.

Worse though was the way that Eric looked at me when he caught wind of my injury. He stormed into the infirmary, all righteous fury and Dauntless fervor. It crumbled the second he actually saw me, much like my own anger. He swept over to me, crashing to his knees beside the bed. "Tris," he breathed. "Oh thank god you're alright."

Before I got the chance to say anything beyond "yes, I'm fine," Eric started speaking.

His voice was low but I didn't dare talk over him. He looked at me like the sky was falling and this was our last moment on Earth. "I am so sorry for earlier. Not just because you were hurt - I realized how fucking wrong I was the second you left my office. I was too much of a coward to admit it. Really, I'm sorry," Eric whispered.

Still, he didn't touch me, didn't demand my hand even as he gripped the rail with white-knuckles. "I spent a lot of my childhood doing the wrong thing. Then I got older and I though that just not doing the wrong thing was the same as doing the right thing," he admitted. Now he refused to look at me. "I could never admit that to myself. Not once."

I couldn't take the pain, the frustration laid bare on his face. Wincing from the stab of pain along my back, I leaned forward. I took his hand in mine and pressed our foreheads together. "Eric, stop, please," I murmured.

He tried to shake his head. "You don't need to say anything, Tris," he begged. "Don't."

It was my turn to play tough guy. I placed my hand over his mouth and gave him the sternest expression my opiate-dulled mind could manage. "Eric, you're not a bad guy. You aren't," I insisted. "I shouldn't have said what I did about Max. That was out of line. But you couldn't possibly be that man you think you are, not when you do things like _this_ and rant hopelessly in the middle of the infirmary."

He laughed bitterly. "I'm still not a good guy."

"That's for me to decide, not you," I insisted. "Now, if you want to apologize to me, you'll rescue me from this god awful place."

That finally broke his dark mood, bringing a small smile across his face. It soothed me to see it, to know that he and I weren't completely ruined. I gave Eric a gentle peck on the cheek and hummed when he whispered death threats to his childhood self under his breath.


	22. Dec 22nd - I was putting up Christmas lights, and I literally fell into your arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is very belated but I'm finishing up these~!

On a scale of one to ten - ten being high levels of idiocy - being on pain medication brings my level of stupid decisions to an eight point five. This is something I’ve learned in the past twenty four hours. I was still nursing my bruising from the ice incident when Eric got me discharged. With a prescription bottle of pills in hand, I thought that I could take on the world. Or at least the decorations in Leadership’s conference room and lobby. 

The poinsettia window clings on the glass dividers were easy to handle. So were the felted cutouts of holiday staples like Christmas trees and a few menorahs for the few Jewish members of Leadership. Honestly, if I had to bet, there were probably about as many legitimately practicing Christians as there were practicing Jewish members of our faction. It was just easier to fall into the Christian holiday because there was a lot more drinking and stupid customs to salvage from pre-war society.

Hence, I was trying to string up tiny twinkle lights from the ceiling. I’d had to reset my staples twice already because I’d under- and then over-estimated how long the string was. That was why I was still struggling with the staple gun, standing on the edge of the conference table, when I decided to test the if laws of gravity were still working.

Eric came in to help, replacing a very non-festive Kyle who had been helping earlier in the afternoon. He arrived just in time, stepping inside just as I tried to support myself on the strength of the stapled lights alone. “Ack!” I cried. I could feel gravity shift, my balance suddenly irreversible. This was it. This was how I died, falling from a table onto my own staple gun.

“You get left alone for ten whole minutes and you just wreck yourself,” Eric mused once he had me settled in his arms. He had moved so quickly, grabbing my knee with one hand and my shoulder with another to slow me down. Then he scooped me up, wobbling for a fear-filled second.

I was too relieved to get mad at his teasing. “It’s my singular goal in life,” I breathed. Once he was certain he had a grip on me, Eric relaxed, his face breaking into a smile. I pressed our foreheads together. Saying thank you was unnecessary; he knew I was grateful.

“Why don’t you tell me where to pin the lights and I’ll stand on the table? I’m taller so I won’t need to practice my air walking to get it done.”


	23. Dec 23rd - There's one Christmas cookie left, so I challenge you. The winner takes the cookie.

"Weren't we supposed to make more regardless?" Eric pressed. He was holding the final oatmeal cookie in his hand. If I looked hard enough, I could probably watch his fingers slowly melt the sugary coating we'd sprinkled onto them.

I wanted that cookie. I needed that cookie. "You said some time this week," I countered. "So if you really want to then we can make more tonight. But that doesn't change the fact that you're still holding _my_ cookie."

He raised his pierced eyebrow. The microdermals glinted just so when he did. I'm thirty percent sure that was why he got them in the first place. "Your cookie? Excuse me, but this is from the first batch. The pre-Prior batch."

I made a grab for his hand, reaching over his desk to snatch at the delectable baked good. He was too quick, the bastard. My fingers swiped empty air. "You can't fool me, Coulter," I countered. "I know all the pre-Prior cookies burned."

Eric cursed, shaking his head. "Either way," he grunted, "this is mine. I claimed it."

"You already had cookies today, Eric," I complained. I'm not proud; I'll admit to resorting to the sad puppy expression. Summoning as much sadness and watery-eyed tragedy I could manage, I pouted at Eric. "I've been in training. Working. Exhausting myself for the good of the faction."

He would not be swayed.

"We're very thankful for that," Eric replied smugly. "You're truly a wonderful soldier doing a very important duty."

Time to bring in the big guns. "Kyyyyle!" I bellowed, twisting my head to not be shouting directly in Eric's face. The secretary was there within moments, rolling past Eric's open doorframe after pushing too hard on the floor. He compensated for the over-roll, sticking his head into the doorframe while he swapped directions.

"You called?"

Eric scowled. "How come you come quick when Tris calls for something bullshit but not when I actually need something?"

Kyle beamed. "I just needed to know you needed me, Eric," he gushed. "Now I'll certainly come as soon as possible. Babe, I need you too. Just say the word and Richards is _history_."

"Ha. Ha," Eric said in a deadpan voice. "Please no."

I flipped my head back and waved at my quirky office mate. "I need you to settle somethign for us. Eric here thinks that because he made the batter for these cookies that he should get the last one. _I_ think that because he's already had one for today and because I've had a long, grueling training session that I would earn the final cookie. Oh, and I did help bake them. So it's not like I'm just taking them without putting anything towards the baked delight," I explained as quickly as possible. The longer it took me, the better chance Eric had to-

"You're just trying to get Kyle on your side. You two are friends, always giggling about something when you're in that damn office," he interrupted. "He's not impartial."

Kyle put a hand over his heart, hurt sprawled across his face. "I'm _wounded_ that you think so little of my character, Eric. I can't possibly think of leaving my darling Richards for you now. I just don't know you like I thought I did," he whined.

I put a hand over my mouth to stop me from laughing any harder. Kyle cleared his throat and switched back to the topic at hand. "I think you two both have valid claims - Eric with the making the cookie and Tris with the being amazing and earning the cookie. There's only one answer though," he said.

We looked at him, expectantly waiting for the secretary to get past his ten seconds of glory and attention. "A duel. You both fight over the cookie," he announced, triumphant.

Eric shook his head immediately. "If we spar, it's just going to end up being my cookie."

"Cocky much?" I sneered. "I could totally take you. Which one of us is limbered up from six hours of drills? Not the one sitting at a desk eating cookies."

Kyle rolled to be between us, crammed between Eric's desk and the wall. "It doesn't have to be a physical duel but you must compete to win the cookie. Eric, I have to ask you to put it down," he insisted.

"Something quick, please," I insisted. "Dinner is in like half an hour."

"Something quick, sure," Kyle echoed. "I already have a fantastic idea - office chair races. Two circuits around the offices, best time wins." Leadership made a loop. We had _never ever_ done office chair races before. Nope. Not once. And definitely not after hours a few weeks ago while manning the comms for Thanksgiving. No way.

I stuck out my hand, waiting for Eric's move. "I'm in. You're going so far down, Coulter."

"You ready to eat those words? Because you're certainly not going to be eating oatmeal, sugar, and… flour," Eric retorted. It wasn't super effective. He lost it in the end. I raised an eyebrow but we shook on the deal.

The cookie was placed on Eric's desk. I scurried to my office to lift my chair out and we started in the lobby. There may have been a stripe of colored tape down on the ground to mark where the start/finish line was already. Kyle was sitting by it, stopwatch in hand. "On your mark, get set, _gooooo!_ " he cheered!

I preferred the backwards facing method of chair racing. It let me push myself rather than pull with my heels. Eric was facing front. We collided on the first corner - I had zero visibility - and Eric recovered faster. He scraped ahead, taking the next two corners precious seconds faster than I. He wiped out on a stray potted plant, falling out of his chair right in front of Veronica's office.

Advantage, Tris. I streamed past him, giving him a wink. I was the one who couldn't see well but he was the one wiping out on obstacles. Where was the logic there? The second lap went better for me even as Eric caught up to me. "I'm getting that cookie, Coulter!" I bellowed, kicking my feet with renewed vigor.

"Eat my dust!" he crowed as we approached the final stretch. I crossed the finish line only seconds after he did, exhaustion making my feet stumble on the precious last few feet.

"Fuck you," I snarled, rolling sadly further down the hall.

Eric stood, bowed, and held his hand out to Kyle. "My prize, sir," he said. His chest flexed and compressed quickly. We were both breathing hard.

My viewpoint was awful, but I recognized Kyle's signature shoulder shrug even from halfway down the hall. "What prize?" he teased innocently.

Eric's voice was deathly quiet. "Kyle, if you ate my cookie…"

Wheels scraped on tile as Kyle leapt to his feet and started running for the elevators.


	24. Dec 24th - You keep playing Christmas music, and it's driving me nuts. Please play something else.

I knew the constant clicking was annoying. Hell, it was annoying _me_ and I was the one using the terminal. The mouse that I'd bought was second hand and awful. Still, it was worth it to save points so that I could even have the behemoth terminal set up in the corner of my apartment.

_Click_. _Click. Click_.

I felt Eric's hands on my shoulders, slowly creeping towards my neck. Before any further damage befell my poor, bruised body, I slid my headphones down and tipped my head to look back at Eric. "Yes?"

He was grimacing. "Babe, I'm more than happy to wait for you to go to the party, but could you put on some music? The mouse clicking is unbearable," Eric spat through gritted teeth.

I chewed my lip. Unplugging my headphones might spoil what I was doing, but it needed to be done. "Sure, but it might be kinda jumpy. I'm looking for just the right songs," I admitted. Full disclosure was good, right?

Eric moved his hands back to rest on my shoulders comfortably. "That's fine. Anything to cover up that damned clicking noise."

He stepped away to sit on the couch. He had come by early to pick me up and walk me to the Christmas Eve party up at Leadership - the very one we had been decorating for and prepping for all week long - and was very much enjoying my couch. According to him, it was like a cloud compared to the "spring riddled torture device" he'd been given in his apartment.

I tugged the headphones out, letting the jolly sounds of Frosty the Snowman fill the apartment. It wasn't a song we'd listened to in my childhood. Probably too far away from the Christian message that my family tended to follow. I scrolled through the rest of the folder, making a note when I spotted a song I did actually remember.

It was tedious, going through the same folders I'd already scoured just two weeks ago. I started skipping folders or accidentally going through the same one twice, blaming deja vu even though I'd literally just backed out of the file system a moment before. Still, I was determined.

Eric cleared his throat, seeking attention once more.

"Yes?" I called before switching to a Nat King Cole folder. It was massive, filled with dozens of copies of the same classic songs. Some were better quality than others, hence the duplication. I flicked through a few versions of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas before finding the one that I liked the best.

"You're seriously only going to listen to a few seconds of each?" Eric growled from my left. I nodded before realizing he wasn't looking at me.

"I told you, I'm looking for specific songs so, yeah. And I have to do this now. If the party's going to last past midnight-"

"Of course it is. It's Dauntless. We're not a bunch of Noses"

"-then I need to do this now," I finished. Chewing on my lip, I decided giving Eric a pinch more information wouldn't hurt. And it might keep him from complaining. "It's for a present, so I need it before Christmas Day."

Eric huffed. "Why does everything have to be given on the same day? Do you know how many people's get-togethers I was invited to?"

The next folder was tiny. Clearly that artist wasn't popular or just didn't release too many songs people likes. "Ten?" I guessed.

"Fifteen."

"The woes of being popular," I teased. There. Fifteen songs, all perfect. I let the music continue and I could have sworn I heard Eric sigh in relief.

" _This_ is how you listen to music, Stiff. I know it's foreign and confusing, but I promise you, you'll figure it out soon," Eric joked.

Rolling my eyes, I began pulling my selected songs into my private file library. "I'll keep that in mind. Not to break your heart, but I'm done here. We can go to the party," I said, tearing up the paper and closing down the file explorer.

Eric's head stuck up above the back of the couch. "You're not wearing your party outfit," he said, grinning evilly. "I spent too much time for it to not be seen, Prior."

I stood up and crossed my arms. "You're a riot, Coulter," I retorted. "Can we just get going? If we wait any longer then we're not going to be there before people start showing up. Might reflect poorly on you since you Leaders are technically hosting."

He hefted himself over the couch to tug my hands out from their crossed position. "Please make my Christmas Eve and wear at least the sweatshirt?" he asked, his voice all soft. I melted, especially when he tipped his head and gave me a lopsided smile. "For me?"

I broke. "Fine. But I'm taking it off after half an hour."

He tore his hand away to pump his fist in the air. "Score! No take backs also Richards is bringing a digital camera, sorry not sorry!"


	25. Dec 25th - Free Prompt

I savored the relative quiet of Christmas. Waking up with a hangover helped to temper any desire to go crazy partying. Two days in a row wasn't exactly my style. Instead, I meandered over to Christina and Will's apartment sometime after lunch, bearing a three-layer dip and chips to boot. They had a few people over - Uriah, Al, Marlene, and Lynn - but overall I enjoyed the quiet air.

We didn't bother exchanging gifts since none of us had the points to go crazy buying for one another. I did spot a glass plate with etching sitting delicately on the coffee table that I'd never seen before, but I didn't mention it. The happy couple should be entitled to some privacy with their gifts to one another.

Uriah brought a couple board games that he'd borrowed from his parents, and we played in messy, horrible teams all afternoon long. I laughed and smiled the whole time, but by the time dinner rolled around all I wanted was to grab food from the cafeteria and go back to my own cozy apartment. Christina pouted when I hugged everyone goodbye before I told her we'd hang out sometime over the weekend. That made her brighten up.

I settled into my couch with a fleece blanket on my lap and the newspaper from the past week. I'd barely glanced at it previously. I enjoyed having the chance to just sit and read, wrapped up in my cozy cocoon.

\---

"Hey Tris?" Knocking and calling woke me up. I blearily freed myself from the blanket and avoided tripping on dropped newspaper. I'd drifted off while reading. Oh my god, I was turning into my father at age sixteen.

I made it to the door before another round of knocks came. Eric smiled wide, his cheeks rosy. "Merry Christmas!" He said cheerfully, landing a quick peck on my cheek. "Sorry to just drop by. I know we didn't really talk about doing anything for X-mas but I just wanted to pop by. Do the quickie hello how are you and then you can boot me out."

He leaned heavily on my doorframe, clearly exhausted but still painfully happy. I chuckled and shook my head. "No problem and no rush. I was just reading," I explained, yawning into an open palm.

Eric bobbed his head and stepped inside at my invitation. I shoved the newspapers into a rough pile on my low table. That would have to be good enough for Eric's company; it wasn't like I was entertaining for a massive group. Or that he hadn't seen my apartment in a total wreck.

"No one's over," I explained, though it didn't need to be said.

"I'm relieved, actually," Eric admitted. "It's been nonstop gatherings all day for me, so this is really, _really_ nice." He sank into the couch, eyes fluttering closed. I settled next to him, nudging him with an elbow.

"Hey douchebag, you can't just fall asleep here."

He pouted, not opening his eyes. "Not even a little?" Eric said sadly.

I laughed, it was too funny a sight not to. "If you'd come to my door begging for mercy and an amazing couch then maybe. But you came by to do the whole 'hello how are you' thing, so you have to deliver on that," I teased.

Groaning, Eric lurched forward from the seat on the couch. He moved sideways, capturing me in a crushing hug. "Hello. How are you, Tris?" he asked.

I returned his kiss from earlier, planting a peck on his forehead. "Better now that you're here," I answered earnestly. "It was getting a bit dull but I couldn't bear the thought of looking for another party."

Eric softened his hug but he didn't stop cradling me in his arms. I pushed him with one hand and he quickly shifted away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Tris," he apologized.

It was my turn to pout. "Seriously? I think we're a little past you hugging me making me uncomfortable." Eric blinked owlishly and I realized he was still a little drunk. Alcohol can make you think stupid things, like that the girl moving you to be a more comfortable snuggle partner doesn't want you touching her.

"I just, I don't know," Eric sighed. His hand came up to run through his hair and my snuggling plans crashed to a standstill. I knew that look. Or could make a decently educated guess as to what it meant. Eric was conflicted and thinking _way_ too hard for Christmas night.

He moved to sit normally, his knees not quite touching mine as I mirrored his movements. "I've been avoiding this conversation. It was easier, to just assume that you and I were just… having fun with one another," he admitted.

"That's how it started," I said softly. Eric nodded. We were in agreement there, then.

"You've only been Dauntless for a couple months, really," he started. "Half the time I can't believe it's been such a short time but it really has been just that, a few months. I worry sometimes that I'm going to read you completely wrong because you don't think the same way we do all the time."

He held up a hand when I was about to protest. "I don't mean that in a rude way or to say you're not 'one of us' or bullshit like that," Eric quickly added. "I meant… geeze it's hard to word this right. I meant that I'm so worried that I'm thinking you're looking for something that you're really not and you think that just messing around is normal in Dauntless - and it _is_ but there's something also to be said about knowing when messing around is more than that."

I squirmed in my seat. He had a point, one that I could clearly see where all this was driving too. But Eric was wrong in his assumption. Or his fears. I wasn't just dicking around, making out with him because it was fun or that because his attention made me feel nice.

"Eric, hang on," I interrupted. My hand found his and I intertwined our fingers. "You don't have to explain. I know what you mean."

Taking a deep breath, it was my turn to form messy thoughts and feelings into words. I looked down at my feet. The carpet was easier to look at than his eyes. "We started off just messing around because we were drunk and because I think we both liked flirting with each other. And the more we did that, the less it felt like messing around. That's a good thing, I think. Or it was a good thing for me at least," I explained slowly.

"I liked spending time with you. Baking cookies. In training. In the office. All that. And it made me want to flirt with you more and I thought that you liked it, too. But if I caught feelings and pushed things too far, I want you to know you don't have to worry. I get it - things are casual when they're casual but they're bad when someone is thinking they are serious when they're not." I swallowed thickly.

"So if this is you saying you don't want me to put moves on you or flirt or whatever, I get that. I know I started falling for you and you probably aren't feeling the same way. God knows, I'm not the greatest person to deal with. I railed you pretty hard over that stupid thing that happened years ago. But yeah," I finished weakly. "I'm cool calling things off. I pushed it too far."

The carpet blurred. I chewed on the inside of my cheek until things sharpened again. I couldn't cry. It was Christmas.

My hand jerked as Eric tugged on it. I looked over at him, resolved to see a relieved Leader who had finally gotten rid of a clingy trainee.

Heartbreak wasn't in my glossary of Eric emotions. His eyes were wide, shocked as his mouth sagged open. "You want to break things off? Because you think I don't feel anything for you?" His question was a whisper.

"Tris, god that's the last thing I want to do. I was saying all those things because I thought I was the idiot who caught feelings for a girl who wasn't looking for anything more. When you didn't make a move after sleeping at my place, I thought for sure you just were messing around. And I mean, I would have been fine with that but the more I thought about it-"

I reached out gingerly, amazed of the casual admission of feelings that was spilling out of reserved Eric Coulter. "I'm not just messing around," I stated, resolute. "I want us to be… something."

His fingertips met mine, flesh meeting flesh in the gentlest of touches. I couldn't breathe, needing him to respond. "Tris Prior, I would date the shit out of you. I'm not messing around, either. There hasn't been anyone on my radar except you and I don't want to change that," Eric managed to spit out. He had to stop and clear his throat, something I didn't really give him time to do before I threw myself back into his arms.

My legs straddled his hips and I held his face between both hands. "You're the only one for me," I said.

"You're the only one for me," he replied. Slate grey eyes sparked with wonder and pure joy. I felt my own face break into a smile. It was a matter of centimeters between our mouths. Too much space. I needed to devour him, to have us connect here in the moment of our stupid, ridiculous realization that we both wanted each other.

I kissed him, deeply and in a slow, passionate sequence. His arms wrapped around my torso, hitching me closer. Teeth grazed my lower lip as he teased me gently. I nipped back, raking nails through his buzzed hair.

Disheveled and breathing hard, we broke apart. We breathed in sync, a trance practically upon us. I felt the tension on a knife's edge. If we had continued, it could have turned into something that could be regretted, something neither of us were ready to deal with together if mere making out had caused such a misunderstanding.

"You've never been hotter, talking about how you care and all that mushy stuff," I joked to break the tension. Eric started to laugh, the sound coming from deep in his chest, vibrating in my hands that I slowly moved to a more casual position atop his shoulders.

He kissed me once more, slow and languid. "I strive to please," he murmured softly. "Now get off so that I can give you your Christmas gift, Tris."

I happily rolled over, tucking myself under one of his arms as he pulled a parcel from a side pocket in his tac pants. "It's a little messy because I didn't know if I'd see you throughout the day, but here, enjoy," Eric said gruffly.

The package was wrapped in plain paper - I appreciated the practicality, especially with how crinkled it had gotten in his pocket - and felt heavy for its small size. Curiosity made me tear the paper quickly, tossing tiny pieces at Eric as they came away in my hands.

A two-toned rectangle came tumbling out, hefty and utterly unknown to me. "What is it?" I was forced to ask after turning it over yielded no further answers. Eric laughed and pulled out a knife from his vest.

"It's a whetstone. You can hone your knives edges on it. I've got like five of them scattered around. It's a nice thing to be able to do when you're thinking or on patrol," he answered eagerly. I took the knife and flipped it open.

"It's perfect!" I cooed, dragging the blade slowly along the white top. Eric showed me how to angle the blade properly and warned me on the dangers of over-using the stone.

"I may have ruined my favorite pocket knife from over honing," he admitted with a laugh. "Then I swallowed my pride and asked Richards how you're supposed to do it. He explained, for a cost."

"Naturally."

I settled back, honing both sides of Eric's knife for him to get the knack of the motions, as the conversation moved on to other topics. "Oh! Before we get too off topic, I have something for you," I said as I jerked up quickly. Eric watched in confusion as I went over to my computer and booted up the media player once again.

The file folder was properly named this time - I'd named it _before_ starting the project this time to prevent misspellings - and I loaded the first song. I had to count to five before I allowed myself to look over at Eric.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I need_

_I don't care about the presents_

_Underneath the Christmas tree_

_I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true oh_

_All I want for Christmas is you_

A raucous smile broke out after the first line, fading to that dazzling sweet expression that thrilled me to my core to see on Eric's face. "I fixed the playlist. I think the first song still says everything, though."

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not following me on Tumblr, you're missing out on cool things like writing memes, process posts on my current fics, and my Holiday Fic Prompt Contest where you can submit fic ideas for me to write throughout the year!! Check it all out (especially the [prompt contest](https://feckyeswriting.tumblr.com/post/153717731702)) at [feckyeswriting](http://feckyeswriting.tumblr.com)~!


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